Animus Votum
by Estelle Gutermuth
Summary: During his childhood time at the Dursleys, Harry realises the truth about the existence of magic.
1. Chapter 1

_**Summary: **__During his childhood time at the Dursleys, Harry realises the truth about the existence of magic. _

_**Disclaimer:**__ All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and the WB and various publishers (except for the ones I made up). No money is being made off this piece of fiction (don't I wish!)._

_**Authors Note: **__This story will later (and I mean much later) have same sex pairing/s._

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_Animus Votum_

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_**Chapter One**_

Nearly five years had passed since the fateful day in which Petunia Dursley had opened her family's front door to find her young nephew sleeping in a bundle with a letter clasped in his hand. The sun had only recently risen for the day at half past 5 and almost all of the occupants of number 4 Privet Drive were still asleep in the bedrooms.

All that is, with the exception of one; a skinny young boy with messy black hair and bright green eyes sat in a cupboard under the stairs on his bed tiredly rubbing his eyes. His day, as always would start at six in the morning.

The young boy, who indecently was called Harry, had only two weeks previously turned six years old, for which he had received new books for class and cookery book. While it was nothing compared to the many toys that his cousin Dudley had received in the previous month for his birthday; of which now most were broken and stored in his second bedroom or thrown carelessly on under the bed of his main bedroom, he was always happy to receive gifts from his Aunt and Uncle who even though made it clear they disliked him, he was sure that in their own way they loved him.

This was probably the reason why he tried to help his Aunt around the house as much as possible in the cleaning and cooking - both of which he was steadily getting better at - and why he helped Mrs Hayes with cleaning out her chickens dens once a week for some pocket money which he happily give to his Uncle who would always pat his head after receiving the money, the only time he would offer his nephew such affections.

At this moment however, he would get up to put the bread dough that he made the previous day; as always, in the oven and prepare the next days dough. While only months before he would now start preparing a fried breakfast for the family, this had changed when Harry and Dudley's school nurse had shown her a video on obesity and its harmful effects, in which she immediately started the whole family on a diet.

Both her husband and her son had started steadily losing weight and Dudley had slowly learnt that his mother would not be caving in to his moans for his favourite foods anytime soon and had finally accepted the situation when his parents had promised him a remote control car when he had lost enough weight.

Her husband had also stopped complaining about the new "rabbit food" regime she had started when they realised that it was costing them a lot less money to eat like this without all of their sons favourite junk food.

The meal had now changed from the fried bacon and eggs to a healthier selection of fruits and yoghurt so all Harry had to do was take the fruit and yoghurt out of the fridge and set up the table. Even though it was still the school holidays and Dudley had normally been allowed to sleep in on such days before he was now woken up in the morning to have breakfast before his father would go to work. He would then be taken to the playground to see his friends by his mother while Harry would be left in the house to clean.

Therefore it was a normal day at number 4 Privet Drive and Harry was wondering around the house cleaning whatever he could. It was normal therefore when he was tidying Dudley's room that there were many items in places that were hard for Harry to reach, in this case, one of his cousins toys had been thrown on top of the tall wardrobe. However it was not normal that when he had been trying to reach it, the toy flew from it resting place and it his hands.

'Huh?' Harry thought.

That was not normal.

He glanced to the window, which was closed, and the back to the teddy bear in his arms, unsure with what to do with the offending item now. Should he tell his Aunt about this when she came back home? His Uncle?

No.

This was not normal and Harry knew that his Aunt and Uncle disliked anything that they deemed abnormal. He also knew from experience that when something "Freakish" happened around them (as his Uncle called it) he was the one who would punished for it - usually by being locked in his cupboard for a few days - which always left him hungry by the end and sometimes having wet himself for not being able to got to the toilet. And in tears.

While he couldn't explain why strange thing occurred around him, he knew that his relatives disliked him a lot more when it did. And Harry being who he was, would do anything to be loved or even liked by his family. Even lying. Therefore telling his Aunt and Uncle about this was not something he would be doing.

After having cleaned what he could he settled himself in lounge to look through his new school books until his Aunt and cousin came home where he spent the rest of the day being chased and hit by his larger cousin. Therefore it was not until after had been sent back to his cupboard for bed that he had been able to think about the earlier incident.

He remembered when he had walked home from the barbers and his hair had returned to its' previous state. Both his Aunt and Uncle had been shouting and he, upset and crying had said he didn't know how it had happened and it had been like magic.

The response had been a lengthy silence until his Uncle had finally screamed "THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC!" Then promptly grabbed him by his hair and threw him into his cupboard and hadn't been let out for a week.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had always had bad reactions to anything or anyone (meaning Harry) mentioning even the word magic. It had been denounced in the family as something so horrid that the only mentioning of it at anytime would be to call it "the m-word" hushed whispered voices so that no one could here them. Their dislike of anything of that sort was only even slightly followed by their dislike of the nephew asking questions (something he learned quickly from the pinched expression that would appear on his Aunts face or the reddening of his Uncle entire head when he dared to question anything).

Magic.

No…

It couldn't be…

Could it?

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Two years had passed from that fateful day with the flying teddy bear and Harry had almost completely forgotten about it. School had started a month ago and he now had to deal with class (which he was determined to do well in because when he did the teachers would smile and call him a good boy) and with the unwanted attentions of Dudley and his gang.

His position in the school stood as the skinny boy with baggy clothes and broken glasses taped together after many breakages. It was also known that his cousin Dudley, the notorious school bully (who had lost quite a lot of weight since the last year and was now not even slightly chubby) and his gang disliked him immensely and didn't want anyone to befriend his younger cousin.

Unfortunately for Harry, no one liked to disagree with Dudley and his friends, which left Harry in a constant state of friendlessness. This also meant that no one would help him by calling for a teacher when Dudley and his gang wanted to play their favourite game; Harry Hunting (which explained why on most days he went home with either new bruises, humiliation or both).

He had once tried to tell his Uncle what Dudley had been doing but instead of being punished for his behaviour as Harry had hoped he had been affectionately patted on the head and praised for "growing up to be a good strong boy", which caused Harry to run to the comfort of his cupboard to cry to himself.

At present however, he was in the kitchen preparing dinner for the family, which was causing trouble as the knife he was using to chop the vegetables was extremely blunt. He had asked his Aunt if they could get a better knife but she had told him in a shrill voice, "You'll have to make do! Now be quiet and stop asking questions!" He tried to make do with the knife but it was taking so much effort to prepare the dinner that he wished that the knife would just sharpen itself.

The knife cut clean through the onion.

Lifting his finger gently to the knife blade revealed it to have become incredibly sharp. Glancing around the room revealed no one to be in sight. Understandable considering his Aunt had taken Dudley to Piers' house to stay for the weekend and Uncle Vernon hadn't arrived home from Grunnings yet (and wouldn't for about another hour).

Early tomorrow morning he would head over to old Mrs Figgs house to stay for the weekend and come back after school on Monday while Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be spending the weekend alone for their anniversary and had dinner plans at a fancy restaurant which he had failed to get the name of.

Their relationship together seemed to have improved since Uncle Vernon had finally lost most of his excess weight, which had thrilled Aunt Petunia no end who was forever gushing over "My handsome husband" and he seemed more than ever determined to spoil his wife. It seemed to Harry that if you disregarded their reactions to the things they disliked - such as Harry, abnormalities, motorcyclists…and Harry - they were an affectionate couple towards each other.

He disliked staying at Mrs Figgs house which always smelled like old cabbage and was always crawling with lots of cats. Being made to look at pictures of the many cats and be forced to help look after them didn't improve situations for him either.

This weekend however would be the first time he would be spending time at the woman's home for longer than just for the day. He was sure that it was going to be a dreadful as it always was when he was there.

Returning his mind to the present, he finished preparing the stew before placing it in the oven. It was only a matter of minutes later he had tidied the kitchen and was using the dinner table to finish his homework (which he knew he would not do if he waited to do it at Mrs Figgs).

Sometime later when he halfway through his homework he heard the front door open and his Uncle's voice.

"Petunia? I'm home," footsteps through the hallway and into the Kitchen where he came into his nephews view. Glaring at him, he demanded "Where's your Aunt?"

"She said she was going to the supermarket to pick up a few things after she dropped Dudley at Piers house."

Another glare. "Finish your homework and set the table. When will dinner be ready?"

"It'll be ready in just under an hour Uncle Vernon," he replied after a quick glance to the clock. After a curt nod, he was left alone. Finishing his homework in under half and hour he set the table just in time for Aunt to return home.

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Having to sit in Mrs Figgs living room as she was looking for one of her photo albums was something that Harry always dreaded about visiting the old woman. She would take what seemed an infinite amount of time locating the cramped full books. Standing up from the couch he walked to the bookshelf on the wall which was filled with what seemed like hundreds of books just on cats. Pulling one at random out of the shelf, he read the title - "The Care of knowledgeable Kneazles".

Wondering what breed of cat a Kneazle was - because he was sure he hadn't heard of them before, but the fact that there was a book on their care on this particular shelf meant it had to be a cat.

'_Basic Information__ - A Kneazle is a magical creature, similar to a cat in appearance. They have spotted, speckled fur, large ears and a lightly pumped tail, like a lion…' _

Huh?

Magical creatures?

Not a cat?

Glancing around the cats he began to see several similarities between the cats in the room now and the description in the book. Even that extra tuff of fur at the end of their tales. Beginning to feel shivers down his spine he carried on reading.

'…_They make excellent pets if they like a Witch or a Wizard…'_

Witch? Wizard?

His thoughts returned to two years previously when that teddy bear had flown into his hand. He had absently considered it to be magic but had discarded the idea as ridiculous. Now however…was it possible? Could magic truly be the reason all the strange occurrences that happened to him? Like that time last year when he had been running from Dudley and his friends and had ended up on the kitchen roof chimney. At the time he had thought that the wind must have caught him when he had been jumping over the kitchen dumpsters.

Could magic have caused that to happen? Could magic truly exist? Or was he just jumping to conclusions. It could be possible that the book was made for new age witches he had heard about, although Mrs Figg didn't seem the type to be into that type of thing.

After putting the book back in its rightful place on the shelf he sat back down on the couch and watched as Mr Tibbles made his way across the room and jumped onto sofa and into his lap where he sat staring at him.

"Magic, huh?" Speaking to the cat felt a little strange but in return he received a soft cry from the cat as if easily confirming the existence of something his family had vehemently denied his entire life. "Fine. I'll believe you, but it's all your fault if it turns out to be wrong."

Magic.

Well, if for nothing else, he supposed it could make his life a little more interesting than it was currently holding up to be. Wait…did that mean that Mrs Figg was a witch? Would it be rude to ask? He supposed it could be so no outright asking an old lady if she was a witch like in all the children's fairy tales. She certainly fit part of the image with all these cats but he had never seen anything in her home that stood out as particularly unusual. Well, he'd never tried to look for anything magical in her home…or in anyone's home for that matter.

Thinking back on stories of witches he had read in school library the typical image of a witch was and old hideous hag with warts on her nose, made potions in the middle of the night in a giant cauldron, had a black cat as a familiar and flew on a broom in the middle of the night. He couldn't imagine Mrs Figg doing any of those thing. He pushed the thoughts away however when the woman in question returned to the room carrying several albums exclaiming she had many new photographs to show him.

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Placing his round glasses on his face, he listened to the snores that echoed through the house. While he wanted to revel in being able to sleep in a real bed and in an actual bedroom, he knew that while Mrs Figg was asleep would be his only chance to find anything else that confirmed the existence of magic. Quietly walking out of the room he tried (and failed) not to step on floorboards which creaked under his feet. He was thankful to discover however that Mrs Figg was a heavier sleeper than Aunt Petunia and this would not be waking the woman.

Once he was downstairs he tried to look for anything suspicious (although he had very little idea what look for short of a giant cauldron) and the whole search was to be done in the dark - although luckily he was used to the dark from living in a small cupboard. However, nearly an hour later and having found nothing he was beginning to become disheartened, when behind the couch was an old newspaper.

While normally he wouldn't have paid any attention to a newspaper (other than to pick it up and place it somewhere else) but he was able to make out the papers name "_The Daily Prophet_" and from what he could remember there weren't any papers with the word prophet. Picking it out from it's hiding place, his heart caught in his throat. It was true. There was no way this could be a hoax. The headline read "_Famous Quidditch Player Retires"_, going on to explain how her decision to retire was due to her desire to start a family with her husband and not because the team had offered her position to the talented Aidan Kiely, who she later congratulates and wishes the best of luck.

The picture of the smiling woman however was moving and currently waving at him before walking out of he picture and out of sight. He didn't know what Quidditch was but the confirmation of the existence of magic was causing his blood to thump through his entire body and probably would have continued to do so had the constant snores upstairs not turned into a snort which shook him to reality. After waiting for the snoring to return, he quickly set back for the bedroom taking the paper with him where he quickly fell into a restful sleep.

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**Authors Note: **I'd just like to thank you for reading this far. As this is my first fan fiction to have the courage to post I welcome all reviews and criticisms.

Thanks again everyone!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All places and characters belong to JK Rowling and the WB and various publishers (except for the ones I made up). No money is being made off this piece of fiction (don't I wish!).

**Authors Note: **This story will later (and I mean much later) have same sex pairing/s.

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Animus Votum

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**Chapter Two**

Being able to spend the next day coming to terms with his new revelation without the ever constant glares and jibes from his family was something that Harry cherished greatly. Although he did have to help Mrs Figg cleaning around the house during the day while trying to hold in shouting "You're a witch!" right in her face (and he did a very good job if he did say so himself), the fact that magic existed was able to calmly settle into his system.

Although he did wonder why if Mrs Figg was a witch, why didn't she use her magic to clean her house and make it smell less like cabbage. He later came to the conclusion that she must do it to make him suffer as she always seemed intent on trying to ensure that he never enjoyed himself.

However the next day, upon arriving home after school (where he had taken extra care to avoid his cousin in case he decided to make up for not seeing him for an entire weekend and humiliate him worse than he usually did), he began to wonder whether the Dursleys knew of magic. At first, when the thought drifted through his mind he had immediately discarded it as completely impossible. Those thought however, refused to disappear and kept forcing him to think of his Aunt and Uncle knowing of magic.

Their complete rejection of magic was something that had always confused Harry. How his Uncle would become red all over and start yelling as loudly as he could. His Aunt would get that pinched look on her face, her lips thinned out before scathingly telling him not to be stupid. If they truly believed that magic was just the make believe fairy tales of children's imagination wouldn't they react more calmly to anyone mentioning it?

Aunt Petunia was currently sitting in the living room reading a woman's magazine with the television on in the background and was showing no sign of acknowledging him. Her reaction though, was the complete opposite when Dudley came running into the house. Immediately tearing her eyes away from the magazine in front of her a large smile appeared on her face.

"Welcome home sweetums, did you have a fun weekend with your friend?" As much as he hated to admit it, it had always and still did hurt when he confronted with how drastic the difference of affection that Aunt and Uncle bestowed on him and their son. He knew logically that they would obviously feel more for their son than their nephew but he always wished they would feel a bit more affection for him.

It was ironic though, he had always thought he had moved on from his younger self who had always been so desperate for the love and affection from his family. Judging however by the fact that he still did everything for them and how much it still hurt when they showed no intention of loving him he was reminded how he was exactly like his five year old self.

Sighing, he left the room while his cousin began his account of all the mischief he and Piers did while he stayed for the weekend. Not wishing to be around them for now he went to his cupboard to start his homework until he would start preparing dinner. It was only ten minutes later however that the light bulb died. He knew that Uncle Vernon would not be giving him a new light bulb for as long as possible, which meant that he would be living without any light for the next week or two.

He would have to finish his work on the dinner table. Grabbing his work from the shelf he went to grab the door handle before making an abrupt halt in his motion. Suddenly not in the mood to finish his school work but for experimentation he closed his eyes tightly and wished for light before opening his eyes. Disappointingly, the room revealed darkness.

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He had told Uncle Vernon about needing a new light bulb in his cupboard and was told he would have to wait until they found the time to buy some new bulbs. This was not surprising to Harry but did bring up a little resentment as he knew there were spare light bulbs in the garage. All he could do now was wait until his Uncle thought he had gone enough time without light. It was a privilege in this house (for him in any case) and he knew this was Uncle Vernon's way of reminding him of that.

The rest of the family had already gone upstairs ages ago and he was also trying get to sleep, this was however proving harder than usual. He couldn't help but wonder on how to use magic. He could remember just a few days ago he had sharpened his kitchen knife and all he had done was wish for it to be sharper. He had wished for the toy to come to him and he had wished to be in a place where Dudley couldn't get to him when he had appeared on top of the schools kitchen roof.

He had wished for them all, but he had wished for light but that hadn't been granted. What if magic though was something that wasn't granted but was something inside you. It would explain why the world didn't believe that magic was real. Only a few people had magic inside of them. If that was true than magic was inside of him, magic was a part of him as much as his arm or his heart or his soul.

Previously his uses of magic had all been done by accident (as far as he could tell) but his intentional attempt at magic earlier had failed. If the magic was inside of him than he could have unconsciously summoned it to do what he wanted but when he had tried to intentionally use it he must not have put any magic in to it at all. Which meant all he had done was sit in the dark with his eyes closed. Feeling better, he was quickly able to fall asleep.

Over the next few weeks was spent trying to figure out how to use his magic but he rarely had much time to himself recently. Mrs Hayes had gone to visit her brother in America (who had, judging from what he could decipher from the lengthy chats she had with Aunt Petunia, recently had some form of surgery and she was going to stay with him until he recovers).

Which meant Harry was given the job of taking care of her chickens and feeding her two dogs and taking them for walks (who were staying at their house so they don't get to lonely. They had had a habit of waking him up in the middle of the night to play by scratching on his cupboard door. This along with his chores, cooking for the family and doing his schoolwork he had no time to even think before passing out from exhaustion.

Therefore by the time Christmas holidays were about to start and Mrs Hayes had returned to the England and had taken her dogs home, Harry was looking forward to finally being able to rest. Knowing that he would now be able to attempt to use magic for longer than five second spans was delightful but for the next week (while school was still in session) he was going to concentrate on catching up with his sleep.

He was still curious though on why his Aunt and Uncle, while knowing magic existed vehemently denied it's existence with furious looks. He had been putting it off ever since his stay at Mrs Figgs home but he knew that it would be any day soon that he would blurt out a question regarding magic to them.

Presently however, Harry had just finished his chores and was about to start what meagre homework he had. Setting up his books on the dinner table he began to work. His Aunt was watching the television with her husband and Dudley was upstairs in his bedroom probably playing with his game boy.

They were chatting over the show and laughing every now and again to show. His curiosity was beginning to win over however and before he knew it he was standing beside them.

"Why do you pretend magic doesn't exist?"

The reactions were immediate. Their smiles had disappeared from their faces and now showed complete shock and were quickly becoming an alarming shade of red. He was now acutely aware of the television programme - the only thing in the entire room that dared to make any noise.

"What?!" The question despite being whispered sounded quite dangerous - it was a tone he hadn't ever heard from his Uncle before. Fear trickled down his spine and body felt as if it were completely frozen.

"Uh…" He couldn't speak.

"What did you just say?" That same tone. "Answer me boy! NOW!"

He was quivering now and he could plainly see a deadly glint his Uncles eyes. His Aunt was glaring at him through wide eyes.

"W-why do you pretend magic doesn't exist?"

Another silence.

"What makes you think magic exists?" Uncle Vernon was standing now and his frame was towering over him.

"I found a newspaper, Uncle Vernon." It was quite possible he was going to wet himself. He could feel every cell in his body, the blood pumping through his veins and he was now trying to reign in the overwhelming desire to flee.

"What newspaper?"

"It was called The Daily Prophet Uncle ."

"Do you have it?"

A pause. "Yes, Uncle Vernon. In my cupboard."

"Bring it here."

He glanced at Aunt Petunia who was glaring at him silently. She looked to be to angry to speak. When she noticed him looking at her, her eyes seemed to sharpen.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Go get it!"

It was only a few moment later that he handing the newspaper to his Uncle who snatched it quickly out of his hands and had a cursory look over the front page before turning his attention to his nephew.

"Sit down boy," motioning to the couch. Not wanting to be in any more trouble than he already was, he quickly did as he was told.

"Now boy tell me - truthfully do you hear me? Where did you get this?" He was waving the newspaper in front of Harry.

"At Mrs Figgs house."

This seemed to surprise both of his guardians (as was evident from the looks on their faces). His Aunt was the first to recover.

"Arabella is a witch?" Looking at her husband who than suddenly paled.

"She moved in to the neighbourhood soon after the boy was dumped on us, maybe she was sent there to spy on us. We should have expected something like this. They could be watching our every move."

Aunt Petunia, who seemed to find the information to much to bear, looked as if she were about to faint as she sat back down on to the couch next to her nephew. Uncle Vernon, who had been glancing worriedly at his pale wife, began speaking again.

"You will no longer go anywhere near that woman. Is that understood?" At Harry's frantic nod he concluded. "Good."

Aunt Petunia however, seeing her husbands sign that this issue was over, quickly stood.

"I think we should tell him." Harry's curiosity piqued."WHAT?"

"Think about this carefully Vernon. Their watching us. The letter said we should tell him when he's older. While I thought this could wait until he turned eleven but if we don't tell him, he might go back to Arabella who might start asking questions."

His Uncle paled and Harry who had been listening every word was confused. What would be wrong with Mrs Figg asking questions? What questions? His guardians' however found the thought frightening. His Uncle gave a curt nod but remained silent. It seemed whatever was about to be said he was going to allow his wife to be the story teller.

"What is it you think you know Harry?" She asked while turning the volume of the television up (Harry thought it was probably so no one could here them).

"I know magic exists and Mrs Figg is a witch who has strange cats called Kneazles." The last part brought a blank look to her eyes for a moment before closing her eyes and sighing.

"I suppose I should start by telling you that yes magic does exist."

"B-but why have you always said that magic doesn't exist?"

"Have your Uncle and I ever given you any indication that we have and positive feelings for magic at all?"

He paused. "No, I guess not."

"Well there's your answer."

"Oh, ok then."

"I should now tell you that my sister, your mother, was also a witch." A sneer appeared on her face. "Our parents were so proud to have a witch on the family. Than she went to that school and met you're your father."

"Wait, what school?"

She glared at him. "When Lily was eleven she received a letter saying She had been accepted at that wizarding school Hogwarts."

"And she met my dad there? So he had magic. I mean he was a wizard?"

"Yes."

"So just out of nowhere when she was eleven you and your family found out she was a witch?""No. We'd already known she was a witch by that point. When she was younger another boy, awful boy he was, came and told us that Lily was a witch. When they were eleven they both went off to that school."

"So she got married to my dad and had me and than they died in a car crash?"

A pinched look appeared on Aunt Petunia's face. "No, they were killed by another wizard, an evil one if the letter that came with you is any indication.""They were murdered?!"

"Yes, the house tumbled down afterwards and you were left with that scar."

His hand reached up to the scar on his forehead, he had always wondered about it, unusual scar that it was - being shaped like lightening and all. His whole body felt numb.

"Wow."

His Aunt continued. "That's how we got landed with you! As the only living relatives you have, that man, Dumbledore, left you on our doorstep."

That was it than. His guardians had told him a lot more than he had anticipated. There was a school - Hogwarts - was he going to go there when he turned eleven. To study magic? The newspaper showed they had their own printing press which meant the had their own community, which possibly meant they lived separately from the people who didn't have magic.

He was unable to think any further on the matter when his Uncle spoke. "You will be telling no one of this. Especially Dudley. I don't want you infecting him with any strange ideas."

Slightly hurt, he replied. "Yes Uncle Vernon. I won't tell anyone."

"Make sure that you don't or you'll be in that cupboard from than until the world ends!" Harry knew his Uncle would follow through on that threat. "Now go get dinner started and until its ready I don't want to hear a word out of you!"

"Yes Uncle Vernon." Life, he supposed, would continue as usual for now. He was surprised that he hadn't got into any real trouble though. Maybe they were too shocked to punish him.

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**Author's Note:** Hi everyone please read and review.

**Bertram-lee: **Thanks


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